Grey's Bar
by DreamingOfTomorrow12
Summary: An alternate version of how Gail and Holly met.
1. Chapter 1

The sign read Toronto: 50 miles. It seemed like I had just crossed the United States/Canada border. Apparently this was long past. A sign announcing hotels and gas stations appeared. I turned onto the exit. There were a few cheap motels, a bar, and a gas station. Taking my pick of the motels, I turned my Altima into a parking spot and located the office. A bored teenager sat behind the desk, flipping through a sports magazine. He gave me the key to their last available room. Apparently this sleepy little town was hosting a Lake Day Festival tomorrow. Good thing the town was surrounded by them.

I found my room at the end of the parking lot and drug my worn, purple duffel bag into the room. My stomach chose this moment to announce its need for food in the form of what is probably the human equivalent of a dying whale noise. The options were slim: bar or gas station. At least I could get alcohol and maybe fries at the bar.

Rain started pouring from the sky. I trudged through the puddles across the road. "Grey's" the sign said. As I pulled open the door to the questionable "Grey's" Bar, the air conditioner blew my hair out of my face. _Great. Now I can be wet and cold. _

A few off duty police officers spoke softly at the table, while a couple construction workers, judging from their clothes, played pool. I put my order in with the bartender. _Is he even old enough to serve beer? Whatever. As long as he can pour a glass of wine, everything else is his prerogative. _

Locating a corner booth away from the other bar patrons, I took my wine and fries and got comfortable with my book; a stupid romantic comedy from a thrift store in Chelsea.

I felt her presence behind me before I saw her. She slid into the seat opposite me and stared. The guy was about to profess his love to the girl, when this girl interrupted their little confession. I looked up from the book.

"I'm Holly," she stated matter-of-factly. "Gail," I replied suspiciously. "Good book?" she questioned while stealing one of my fries. I looked at her in disbelief. "Well?" she asked again. "It's stupid and cliched," I finally spit out. "Bummer," she said nonchalantly while eating another fry. _Who did she think she was?! _

She ordered a drink as the overly flirtatious server walked up. "And one for my friend, Gail," she smiled at him sweetly, flipping her perfectly wavy, black hair. He walked away, completely content to be her servant in probably anything she asked. I mean she looks like a Greek goddess, who wouldn't?

"He's such an ass," she mumbled quietly. I smiled. We are going to get along great.


	2. Chapter 2

_What was that noise? Definitely a fire truck. And can someone turn down the sun, or at least close the curtains? I could have sworn I closed them before I left the motel room. All of this is not helping the punk rock band playing the chorus to a Pink song in my head. Over...and over... _

I bravely opened one eye. _This doesn't look like my room. _Wooden floors and brick walls had replaced the ugly wallpaper and cheap carpet. From what I can tell, it's a loft. High ceilings and all that. _Someone obviously has a knack for interior design. Someone? A person! Oh God! _I looked down. _I am definitely naked under this white comforter. _I spotted my white daisy covered, black dress thrown haphazardly on a chair. And there was a familiar looking black lace bra on the floor. The boots had yet to be located. _If I can wiggle slowly, maybe my bed partner (who was against my back and yet to be identified) will stay asleep. _I start to wiggle. A tan arm suddenly snakes across my bare stomach. I freeze. _I'm caught. _The still unidentified person buries their face in my neck and sighs, pulling me closer. _There's no way I'm getting out of this. I should just jump out the window now and hope for the best. _

"I can make coffee. I know those tequila shots did a number on you," a distinctly female voice mumbles sleepily into my neck. _Holy hell. The girl from the bar. The server hater/french fry stealer/shots partner girl from the bar. Hadley? Haley HOLLY! That was her name._ It's coming back in pieces now. _The seemingly endless tequila shots, the pool playing, and the stumbling to a car. Not my car though. _


	3. Chapter 3

She nuzzled my neck. I stared wide-eyed at what appeared to be the kitchen. " I have to go," I sputtered out. I leaped out of the bed (who am I kidding, I stumbled out of it. She was right about the tequila shots). I pulled the comforter around me and searched for the rest of my clothes.

She stretched lazily. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"she countered, still half-asleep. Her voice was like that of a child. Questioning with the innocence of someone who hadn't experienced loss or disappointment. I located my boots and was in the process of getting dressed, while trying to evade her gaze, which was trained on me. At this point, I hadn't thought about going to the bathroom to change. "I have to be somewhere," I lied quickly, but a little guilty. "You don't have a ride," she replied with a smirk. Having a ride wasn't anywhere on my mind. I was stumped. I didn't even know what city I was in. I could be in Toronto, 50 miles fro my motel, for all I knew.

She lazily sat up in the bed, regardless of the fact that she was wearing nothing. She slid on a T-shirt and a pair of black lace panties, that just happened to match my bra. _Fuck. _My brain figured out what item of clothing I was missing and now she was wearing them.

Walking slowly to the kitchen, she turned on the coffee pot and tossed a medicine bottle at me. "Don't act like you don't need some," she said, winking at me. I looked down at the aspirin. _My head is throbbing... and it's not like she is going to drug me to have her way with me. That had already happened and I'm pretty sure that I was a willing participant. _I took two, along with the coffee mug she passed across the breakfast bar to me. I slowly sat down on a bar stool, resigning myself to staying, at least until I could get a ride to the motel.

_Gross. The coffee was disgusting: strong and bitter._

Regardless of the taste, I drank it, hoping the jackhammer in my brain would go away. I looked around the kitchen from my seat at the breakfast bar, while Holly made breakfast out of eggs and some sort of oatmeal something, I noticed the cheery yellow paint on the walls and weird little coffee mugs sitting on shelves. I should have known she was odd, especially because I was drinking out of a cat mug with ears.

"You don't remember last night do you?" she talked over her shoulder to me while scrambling the eggs. "I was reading my book until I was rudely interrupted. There was tequila and a server that, according to you, is an ass," I recalled the little that I could remember.

She laughed quietly. "Alcohol is really not your strong suit, huh?" She asked, smirking. "Did I do something embarrassing?" I questioned her," Something more embarrassing than sleeping with a stranger?" "And I thought we were becoming good friends," she replied, with a backward glance over her shoulder. "You left out the part about the pool playing and poker games," she continued. "So nothing too bad," I countered. "Oh, and pretending to be a stripper while dancing on the bar," she stated calmly. "WHAT?!" I almost yelled at her.


	4. Chapter 4

*Sorry for such a short chapter! I don't have much time to write right now, but I'm going to try to upload another chapter later this week.*

She turned to a cabinet and pulled two blue plates out of it. While dividing the eggs onto the plates, she continues, "You didn't take EVERYTHING off, just enough so that the few people in the bar got a look at your gorgeous legs," she teased, winking at me. I glared at her. "The only thing you took off was your dress, but I was able to coax you back into it after "Single Ladies" finished playing on the jukebox."

Me face feels like it's on fire. I put my face in my hands hoping it cools off before she notices me blushing. She passes a plate of eggs and a portion of the oatmeal mush substance to me. Holly watches as I poke at it with my fork. She rolls her eyes.

"They're grits," she explains. "How was I supposed to know that?," I snap at her. Disregarding my comment, she continued to educate me on these so-called grits, "They're almost exclusively eaten in the southern part of the United States, sometimes with cheese or sometimes mixed with eggs." She had already mixed hers with the scrambled eggs. I do the same and taste them. They're not half bad, but I'm not going to tell her that. We eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the cars and a train somewhere in the city.

"You did something else last night," she says so quietly that I almost don't hear her. "You told me that you had a secret and that's why you're in Canada. I figured it was just the tequila talking," she continued, slowly as if not to startle me.

_At least I didn't tell her what the actual secret was. What would she think of me? _I look at her. Pained, scared eyes meet warm, sympathetic ones. _ I have to tell her. _


End file.
